


In The Amber Of The Moment

by danveresque



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/M, Post-The Old Guard: Force Multiplied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danveresque/pseuds/danveresque
Summary: Nile stops bouncing around the world ruminating on immortality, Booker has an apartment in Bruges.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111





	In The Amber Of The Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a decade after the events of _Force Multiplied_. You don't necessarily have to have read the comics for this to make sense, but it does mean you will be spoiled.

_“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”_  
_― **Kurt Vonnegut**_

**O**

“Bruges? Really?”

Booker stares at her for a while, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as if it’s hanging on purely through luck. There’s a droop to his eyelids that suggests he’s either just woken up or his morning coffee was Irish. Or maybe, Nile thinks, he’s just...French. Joe would laugh at that. Andy would find it funny, allow herself a little smirk, but she wouldn’t laugh. Andy is...is an ancient. A monolith. She doesn’t so much smile as she does crack. 

Maybe Quynh makes her laugh. Definitely made her cry.

“Why do you say it like that? _Bruges_?” Booker mimics as Nile pushes past him into the small apartment, leaving him hanging on the doorway and calling out after her, “What’s wrong with Bruges?”

“It’s cold, it’s grey, oh and it’s cold and grey,” Nile calls back, dropping her rucksack on the floor and conducting a quick exploration before finding the bathroom. She closes the door, relieves herself with a tired and long sigh before washing her hands and face with cool water and flowery scented soap. 

To be fair on Bruges, it’s pretty inoffensive. She gets the feeling that even if she got lost between here and the station, she probably would have mistakenly ended up in the right place anyway. Hell, if she wasn’t an immortal with no right to a normal life, she might have been one of those tourists in the square, taking a million photographs and sending them off to anyone who might or might not care. As it is, she just isn’t in the mood for a winter wonderland called Bruges.

“I like Bruges,” Booker calls out from the other side of the bathroom door.

Nile pulls the door open and smiles. “I never said I didn’t like Bruges.”

Booker offers her a tilted smile. “Hello, Nile.”

“Hello Sebastien,” Nile says with a grin, earning a roll of his eyes. 

There’s something about Booker, something that makes her feel at home wherever they are. Even when they had just met, she felt herself grounded near him. How he had managed that while being a big old liar was definitely something, but there it was. When Andy declared a hundred years of exile for him, Nile had felt her heart sink. 

“You hungry?” Booker asks with a nod. She nods back. He tilts his head towards the kitchen, pushing away from the door frame. “Come. Let me feed you, Nile Freeman, hater of Bruges.”

Nile snorts at that, watching Booker take his sweet time to head off to the small kitchen which probably hasn’t been updated in thirty or forty years, debris on the square wooden table, the counter running along the far wall cluttered with pans, empty bottles and cartons of food. 

Booker looks back at her, catching her surveying the mess. He seems to put himself in her head for a second, looking around his kitchen. Looking back at her he nods and heavily tells her, “It’s not like I get a lot of visitors.”

Nile nods. “You don’t say. Just FYI, I think if you leave this place as gross as it is for long enough, you might actually find a cure for immortality all by yourself.”

Booker’s gaze instantly fills with guilt before he slopes off towards the counter and picks up a pan. Lighting a flame on the stove, he says without looking at her, “I’ve missed you.”

“Same,” Nile says. 

Booker nods, responding with a deep, _hmm_. Nile steps deeper into the kitchen, dragging a wooden chair away from the table and sinking down. Booker cooks in silence and Nile watches him the same way. 

**o**

Nile tips back another glass of vodka, downing it in one go, before looking into the empty glass, wanting to shake her head at herself. This is pretty pitiful. Sitting here drowning her sorrows on Booker’s terrible beaten up couch while he watches from his slump in an even more beaten up armchair, his messy kitchen in the background looking no better with vodka inside her. 

It’s his fault. He pokes her about disappearing after the lost job and she doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s spent enough time bouncing from place to place running from her immortality, fighting against being ejected from normality, struggling against the long road ahead of her and the fact that she’s barely even started. 

Booker’s looking at her all worried, like he doesn’t need a damn intervention himself. Nile tilts her head at him, looking right back. “What?”

His gaze flicks to her empty glass and back up. “It’s not the solution.”

Nile shakes her head. “I would disagree.”

“Nile, you’re too-”

“ _What_?” she says curtly. “Young?”

“No,” Booker said. 

“Female?” 

“No.” He sounds impatient now. Impatient and old. “Smart.”

Nile looks away from him, shaking her head at his answer. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she tells him, “Smart doesn’t help with this. You should know better than anyone else.”

Booker’s expression goes tight, his eyes flinty. “You can do better than being me, Nile.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Nile says. “Not that you can be when you’re an immortal. I mean, you should know.”

Booker gets up, slow and heavy like an old man whose bones no longer move the way they used to. He gives her a cool look and then without a word walks past her and through the French doors on the other side of the room, hiding away in the bedroom. 

“Good work, Nile,” she mutters to herself.

**o**

Booker is sitting up in bed sulking. He hasn’t even bothered to take his boots off, slumped back against the pillows and morosely staring at the painting on the wall in front. Didn’t bother turning the light on either, leaving the room looking grey in the fading of the day. 

Nile stands against the door frame, watching him, feeling oddly tentative about approaching Booker. When she doesn’t say anything, he looks at her. “What? You weren’t finished?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Bullshit,” he says without any heat. 

Nile’s eyes are stinging and she looks away from him, the alcohol in her blood already burning up, everything she wanted to run away from back in front of her face. 

She laughs, the sound shaky and uncertain. “You don’t get to go around telling people not to drink, Book.”

“You’re not people,” he says. “You’re better than this.”

Nile pushes away from the door to go sit on the edge of his bed, quietly asking him. “And what exactly is _this_?”

Booker goes from looking serious to letting out a laugh. “Getting drunk with some old guy. In _Bruges_.”

“Well, Andy’s busy playing house with Quynh,” Nile says, “And Joe and Nicky, they’re so damn loved up to be around, sometimes it just-”

”Makes you want to kill yourself?” Booker says, raising his brows. She laughs,shaking her head at that. Booker reaches out and takes her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“But?” she says.

“But nothing,” he asks with a shrug. “I just...I don’t want you to spend the next two hundred years at the bottom of a bottle. It numbs your pain for a moment. The rest of the time, you’re just chasing that numbness, waiting to be able to feel nothing. It’s not living, Nile.”

“It’s not okay for me, but it’s ok for you,” Nile says with a nod. “That’s some flexible logic there.”

Booker gives her a look, tentative and perhaps a little fearful. “Who says it’s okay for me? Maybe it’s not. Maybe...one day it’ll be a thing of the past.”

Nile smiles at him, hoping it’s true, hoping he wants something better than drunken bliss. She doesn’t comment on it, letting his words sit with him, sink in deep enough to become real. 

Booker brings up her hand and lays a kiss on top of her knuckles, light and chaste. Nile moves away from the edge of the bed, shuffling closer to Booker until they’re side by side, her with her legs drawn in close, his still stretched out, his body twisting towards her. 

Booker looks deep in thought, his gaze resting on her mouth, hers resting on the parting of his lips. He makes no attempt to move away or dissuade her from what she wants, waiting for her first move. She leans in and closes the distance between them, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth, just a press of lips, a soft homecoming. 

Booker’s hand closes tight around hers and her heart trips a little in her chest. She’d spent months at a time away from them all, being reckless, pushing her immortality, and in all that time, though her mind went back to all of them, it was her heart that dwelt a little more on the loss of Booker. On the way to this little apartment, Nile had smiled, felt a little lighter, knowing Booker would be here and that he’d give her a sense of belonging as she struggled to find her place in the world. 

Booker lifts his hand to touch her face, brushing his thumb over the curve of Nile’s cheek, his eyes tracking the movement, flicking to her eyes, to her mouth. She smiles and he leans in close, curling his arm around her shoulders to pull her towards him. They kiss again and this time it’s a little more hungry and wanting than their last kiss. Nile parts her mouth to taste him, pressing up close against Booker as he wraps both his arms around her, enveloping her completely in his hold.

A short tussle ensues of limbs colliding as they paw at each other's clothes, Nile trying to push that tired shirt of Booker’s off his chest and failing, while he strips her of her jeans with hilarious irritation, yanking open her shirt regardless of how buttons work. 

“Do you get to be naked?” she pants as he mouths at her neck, his fingers fiddling with the strap of her bra.

“One problem at a time,” he says, breathing heavy in her ear. 

The strap of her bra snaps open and Booker goes back to kissing her, pulling back only to take off his shirt and t-shirt and then unbutton his jeans. It doesn’t need two pairs of hands, but Nile is grinning and tugging at his waistband, completely not helping. Jeans gone, he falls forward, propped up on his elbows either side of her shoulders, his body nestled between her legs, Nile’s hands on his ass, pushing down his boxers. 

He has a strange tentative look about and Nile hopes to god he won’t say something stupid like _are you sure?_ She knows her mind better than anyone and if she’s sure about one thing, it’s Booker. 

He smiles and whispers that she’s beautiful, as if he;s seeing her for the first time. When she reaches up to cup his face, Booker turns into her touch, his eyes drifting shut, his lips kissing the inside of her palm. Nile draws her legs up tight around his thighs, arching her back to push her body up into his, smiling at him. Booker grins, smoothing a hand up and down Nile’s thigh, before his fingers curl and she can feel the light scratch of his nails on her skin, sending chills through her body. Booker’s eyes rake over her as he pulls at Nile’s bra, tossing it way so hard it makes Nile laugh.

“You’re beautiful,” Booker says, sliding his hands up her sides as she tries not to squirm from the tickle of his touch. His hands spread out over the bottom of her ribs, his thumbs moving back and forth over her skin. “You’ll always be beautiful.”

Booker slides his hands up over breasts, his thumbnails scratching over her nipples. She bucks up into the touch, her mouth falling open silently. A little breathless, she tells him, “You talk too much.”

Booker responds by dipping his head and closing his mouth around her nipple, her other breast still in the warm grasp of his hand. She bites down on her lip, holding back a slip of the tongue as she feels his tongue lick over the tightened nub of her nipple, followed by the playful nip of his teeth. 

Booker’s boxers are stuck below his ass and he’s hard and thick between her legs, leaking stickily against her thigh. Every time he moves she feels him nudge against her. She makes a humming noise deep in her throat at the touch of him, her thighs both widening around his hips and then tightening to keep him close. 

Nile reaches down to dig her fingers into Booker’s hair as he licks a trail between her breasts, before tilting his head up to catch her gaze. She blinks drunkenly at him, his hands moving down to her hips, smoothing around them to cup her ass. 

Booker gives her a tilted smile and sits up before yanking her onto his lap, making her yelp and laugh. Smiling, Booker hooks his fingers into her panties and very slowly pulls them down her thighs, before sliding them off her legs. 

Bunching them up in his hand he says, “Perhaps I should keep these.”

“Why? You gonna wear them?” she asks with a grin.

“Say the word,” he tells her, winking and tossing her panties aside. Looking at her lying naked and half in his lap, he asks Nile, “Should I give you a little kiss?”

Nile nods slowly. “Yeah. You can give me a little kiss.”

Booker shifts her and himself until his face is pressed against the inside of her thigh. She can feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and no doubt he can tell just how much she wants him. He dips his head and kisses her across her lips, the press of his mouth making her shudder. 

“Book-” 

She lets out an altogether more telling and needy sound when she feels the wet touch of his tongue slipping into her and slowly licking across her clit. When his tongue touches that nub of nerve endings, she wants to shove down against his mouth, her hand flying to her chest, hand fisted against her sternum. 

He pulls away, taking a breath, breathing her in before tasting her again, lapping against her clit again and again. If he goes on like this, she could come without him touching her anywhere else. Though she isn’t opposed to that _at all_ , she wants to feel him inside her, she wants them to get as close as they can get. 

She reaches down, grabbing at his hair, yanking lightly with frustration. He shakes his head out of her grasp, grabbing her hand and holding it aside. He looks up the length of her body from between her thighs as his free hand appears between her legs, two fingers slipping into her. He knows her too well, his fingers curling exactly where she wants them, his thumb rubbing into her clit.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she groans, her breath hitching as his fingers slide in just right. “ _Book_.”

Booker lets go of her hand and stops touching her, smoothing his hair back before leaning over her to open the bedside drawer. Nile watches him as he grabs a condom and lube for good measure. When he catches her looking, he smiles, something bright sparkling in his eyes, something she wishes was there more often. He presses his mouth to hers in a fleeting kiss, giving her taste of herself, before slipping on on the condom. Booker waves the bottle of lube at her, raising an eyebrow in question. She laughs, shaking her head. She doesn’t need it. Booker is more than enough. 

Booker tosses the bottle aside, letting it hit the floor, arching his brow higher. _Idiot._ She laughs as he slowly moves to lie over her, using one arm to prop himself up. His free hand is smoothing down her arm, over her hip. Kissing her, he smooths that hand over her ass, moving it to her thigh. She opens her thighs a little more, pulling at his body as they share another kiss, wet and messy, Booker reaching between them to take a hold of his cock and push slowly into her. Nile’s head falls back against the pillow, her eyes drifting shut, leaving Booker’s lips to mouth at her throat. She shifts her hips and her thighs to get him close, to get him deep until there is nowhere left to go, Booker panting against her face, his body shaking ever so slightly. 

“Nile,” he murmurs, taking her chin in his hand, guiding her mouth back to his so he can kiss her, slip his tongue into her mouth and complete the circuit of their bodies. 

When he starts moving inside her, she has to pull away from their kiss, her mouth falling open to pant at the orgasm that has been coiling and pulling at her insides since the first press of his tongue, her body sparking wherever Booker touches her. He’s filling all her senses, with the faded smell of soap and traces of drink, the scratch of his beard, the slide of his skin, the sound of his broken breaths in her ears. It’s making her head spin and her body burn.

Booker shifts on top of her, reaching out to grab the wooden slat of the headboard with one hand, his other hand smacking her thigh where it lands too hard as he grabs it and hikes her leg over his hip, keeping it there despite the sweaty slide of their skins. Booker’s body is a sculpture of taut muscles spread over her as he moves in and out of her, his jaw clenched with almost hilarious determination. 

She lets out a frustrated, _ah_ , the rest of the sentence lost in her head, her fingers gripping his arm so tight her fingernails should leave marks lasting for days. But they won’t. Minutes from now she’ll look and his skin will look like she was never here. 

Booker tilts his head at her, sliding hard into her. “I’ll think of this later. The way you look. The way you feel. The way you taste.”

Nile bites down on her lip and moans, arching up into him, her hand flying out to grab at the headboard, her other hand still holding onto Booker. She bucks her hips up to meet his thrusts, squeezing her eyes tight but still seeing Booker in her mind’s eye, the intensity of his gaze, the hunger. 

It's when she thinks of him licking into her that she comes with a strangled cry. Booker’s body loses some of its tautness over her and he speeds up his moments, her cry a signal that he can chase his own orgasm, which he does with gusto, sending Nile into a series of unstoppable shudders, her body too sensitive, still dangling closely over the precipice of orgasm. He comes just as she sobs his name, her body shuddering as if she’s lost control of it. 

They lie in a heap for a while, their panting loud in the otherwise silent room. Booker moves on top of her, sloth-like and heavy, surrounding her by the breadth of his chest and shoulders, his arms slowly closing around her like wings. He’s breathing hard and hot against her cheek, still a firm presence inside her.

Nile shifts her legs, drawing them up tight around Booker's hips as her hands rest on his waist. "I guess Bruges isn't so bad."

Booker lifts his head to look at her, his damp hair falling into his hair. His face is flushed, eyes full of sparkle, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He seems at least...two hundred years younger.

"You said that about Berlin," he says. "And Stockholm."

"You really can't take a compliment can you?" Nile grins at him.

"Shhh," Booker replies, kissing her syrup slow.

**o**

Nile wakes with a start, a strangled sound waking her. She sits up, turning to look at Booker. This has happened before and she’d gotten caught up in Booker’s frightened thrashing. Right now Booker is lying rigid, his body jerking as if he can’t move further than a few inches, as if he’s trapped in a tight space. 

“Book,” Nile says. “Book, wake up.”

He can’t hear her, trapped somewhere she can’t get to him. He’s clenching his jaw, in some kind of agony. Nile reaches out to touch him and that’s when he rears up, growling in terror. 

“Fuck,” Nile gasps, scrambling back as Booker sits there, tightly coiled like a spring, panting so hard it makes Nile’s lungs hurt. 

He’s shaking, staring wide-eyed. In the dim light of the moon she can see the fear clear as day. He’s not dreaming anymore, he’s remembering. She calls out softly, “Booker?”

Booker hears her and stills, before turning his head in her direction. The moon hits the shine of his eyes, the icy blue fear in them. Nile makes the mistake of reaching for him. He twists away from her so hard it must hurt, getting out of bed and stalking off towards the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him. 

She slumps back against the pillows, pulling the blankets up all the way under her chin, her eyes on the bathroom door. Nile can hear water running, see the light glowing in a thin stripe under the door. After a while, the water stops, replaced by complete silence. Nile waits for the door to open, but he’s still in there.

When she’s had enough, she slips out of bed, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She knocks gently on the bathroom door. “Booker. Book.”

He says nothing, makes no sound, but it feels like he’s standing on the other side of the door looking at her. 

She leans against the door frame, sighing heavily. “I’m not going to ask you to talk about it.”

It takes a few seconds, but the door opens and Booker is standing there leaning against the door frame on the other side, peering at her with a small smile, looking pale and bleached under the harsh light of the bathroom. 

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice sounding rough.

Nile lightly shoves the open door further away, moving into Booker’s space and slipping her arms around his middle. The blanket slips to the floor, but it doesn’t matter because Booker’s arms are coming up around her, holding her close, his face pressed against her temple. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Nile murmurs against him. 

“It’s late,” he says.

“We’re up,” she reasons. “Besides. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Booker snorts, rocking her in his hold a little, before pulling back and nodding. “Let’s go for a walk.”

**o**

“Do they have something against lights here?” Nile complains as the two of them walk down a cobbled street in near pitch black. 

Any light they see just ends up looking strange and alien, making her feel as if she’s in a fish tank. She’d come this way to Booker’s apartment, but in the light of day it had looked quaint. Now, she’s just waiting to fall on her ass between the dark and the bumpy ground under her feet. 

Booker seems totally content at her side, a small smile on his lips. He has his arm around her shoulders and Nile has an arm around his waist which is warm in the heat between his back and his jacket. She grabs a hold of the hand hanging by her shoulder too, getting another look from Booker which is both warm and dazzling. 

She wonders what he was like in his day, before grief and immortality. He must have laughed more freely. His smiles must have been full. His gaze must have lacked that ever-present sadness that nothing seems to dislodge. She wonders if that sadness would ever fade, or if it would just deepen. Would he have the look Andy has in her eyes, like deep wells of loss and pain? Or would he have that light Nicky and Joe have in their gazes, some strange eternal flame that burns no matter what?

They pass a restaurant which is closed for the night, Booker nodding towards it. “We should have dinner there tomorrow. You’ll like it.”

“Good?” Nile asks. Booker brings his hand up and kisses the tips of his fingers.

Nile grins, both of them continuing their walk past outdoor tables that have been abandoned for now, walking up an incline towards a stone barrier that arches over a canal. Up ahead is another stone bridge. Between it and where they stand, the canal water is inky black, the moon’s reflection caught up in the ripples. It’s the yellowest and warmest moon she’s ever seen.

Nile leans against the wall watching the rippling moon, Booker moving to stand behind her, his arms either side of her as he braces his hands on the edge of the wall. Nile leans back into him, smiling when she feels his mouth press against her head. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says. “I shouldn’t have judged Bruges based on your apartment.”

Booker laughs. “Very funny.”

“If my mom saw that kitchen, I am telling you, you would not hear the end of it,” Nile says. Booker makes a small sound, a hum of amusement, but then lapses into thoughtful silence. Nile sucks her lips into her mouth, clamping down a confession that won’t go down well. She tells him anyway. “I went to see her.”

“Nile-” he starts, sounding disappointed and worried in the same breath.

“It’s fine,” she says. “She didn’t see me, I didn’t talk to her. I just...I saw her coming out of church. She was there with my brother and my aunt. They looked okay...happy. Which is good. I mean...I want them to be happy.”

Booker gently turns her around so she has to look at him. “It’s a good way to remember them. Having moved on. Happy with what they have, even if they’ll never stop grieving your loss.”

Nile swallows, looking at the ground rather than Booker. “She looked right at me, you know? My mom. She couldn’t have seen me, but I saw her turn back and look like she knew I was there.”

Booker doesn’t say anything, stroking his hands up and down her arms over the sleeves of her borrowed sweater. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Nile says. 

“Or maybe she did know,” Booker says, before taking her hand in his. “Maybe she could feel you looking over her.”

Nile considers that, wonders if that’s the way forward, to look over them from afar, let them believe what they want to believe. 

Nile pushes away from the wall, pulling Booker along, both of them embarking on an aimless walk. Before long they’re in the famed square, the bell tower on the other side, a dark shadow in the middle of the night sky. The place is deserted and eerie. For a moment it feels like they’re both in another time. 

Nile tugs on Booker’s hand, making him trip towards her with a laugh. Smiling at him she asks, “So, how long have you been hanging out here? Let me guess. You first visited in 1880. You guys were like Mission Impossible, but old world. Andy was Tom Cruise. You know, but tall.”

Booker laughs. “You are a crazy person.”

“You were Jeremy Renner,” Nile says with a grin. “Only...cuter.”

Booker both scowls and laughs at her, shaking his head. “We came here after the Second World War. We were lying low here for a while, me, Andy, Joe and Nicky. _Nobody_ was Jeremy Renner. Andy...Andy is _always_ Tom Cruise. You know...but tall.”

Nile stars at him, grinning with delight. “And it’s just so exciting you had to come back again?”

Booker frowns, gaze turned inwards. “It was...like the whole place was frozen in time. Under some kind of spell. Just like us. It felt like finally something was moving at the same speed as me. Still feels that way sometimes.”

Nile stops walking, smiling at Booker. “It’s very you.”

Booker nods, grinning. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No,” Nile says softly. “It’s quiet, but _also_ a little dramatic. Kind of pretty.”

“Only kind of?” Booker asks her with a teasing smile. 

“Well, I’m not calling the city hot,” Nile tells him.

Booker prods his chest with his finger, nodding. “But?”

Nile makes a show of looking him up and down, nodding appreciatively. “Uh huh.”

Booker laughs, tugging her close, pressing a kiss to her lips and warming her all over. When their mouths part he holds on, his arms tight around her as they peer at each other in silence. Smiling at Nile, Booker puts one arm around her waist, the other arm lifting up to grab her hand. Nile grins, resting her free hand on his shoulder, swaying slowly with him in the dead of night, their breath misting the chilly air. 

They sway for a little longer, before heading back to the apartment, hand in hand.

**o**

Nile’s pressed up against Booker’s side, her arm tight around his middle. He has an arm curled around her shoulders. Outside the window, the dark is beginning its slow fade into morning. 

“You know what day it is?” Nile asks.

Booker is quiet for a moment, she can almost hear the ticking of his brain. Something tells her he remembers.

“Yeah,” he says. He lets out a breath, sounding a little winded. “I dreamt about you. Ten years today.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Today’s the day I died. What does that make it? Like a...shitty birthday?”

Booker is quiet for a second but she feels his body moving and then the sound of chest deep laughter. “I think you’ve got something there.”

Nile looks up at him, laughing. “You know what? I don’t think I want to know what kind of cake and presents come with a shitty birthday.”

Booker is still laughing, his head having fallen back against the pillows, eyes shut. You’d think he’d never heard anything so funny. In fact, he murmurs it quietly, _shitty birthday_.

“Okay, you’re finding that way too funny,” Nile says. 

She feels his hand move from her shoulder to her face, the backs of his knuckles stroking her cheek. “Ten whole years, huh?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Ten whole years. My brother got married. My mom has a granddaughter. My friends have families. I don’t have even a single grey hair.”

Booker’s fingers move to her hair, scratching lightly at her temples. He tells her, “You have a family. And you have... _great_ hair.”

She huffs out a reluctant laugh at that. “I guess if you’re going to be immortal, staying young is the least you should get out of it.”

“Nothing to get drunk about in Bruges at all,” Booker says, receiving an elbow in his side from Nile. “ _Ouch_.”

“Kind of strange, don’t you think, Copley rounding us up for a mission right on my kind of shitty birthday?” Nile says.

“He doesn’t strike me as a guy who throws crappy surprise parties for kind of shitty birthdays,” Booker says, getting a laugh out of Nile. “Some things just happen because...why the hell not?”

Nile cranes her neck to look at him, wanting to tell him that no one spends two centuries drowning their sorrows with an attitude of _why the hell not_.

“What were you dreaming about?” she asks him. “Quynh?”

He looks at her and she can sense him weighing between the choice to share or withhold. It’s when his gaze turns inwards and he looks just a little lost, she realises that for a change he’s not going to run off and lock himself away,

“When Quynh had me and I kept drowning, there was this one time...” he says quietly, “I thought I was hanging from a rope, noose around my neck. I could see it snowing. I thought I saw...I saw someone watching me.”

Booker’s gaze shifts to Nile, glassy and curious. She frowns at him. “Okay.”

“When Copley sent out the message about a new job,” Booker says, before prodding his own temple, “it was back again in my head. That moment...I wanted it to be over so badly. To not wake up again with water in my lungs. For a moment...it felt like it _was_ over. Like someone was waiting to come get me.”

“Someone did come to get you,” Nile tells him softly, sitting and sliding on top, straddling his lap. Booker looks up at her, his hands settling heavily on her hips. “We came to get you, remember?”

He smiles. “I remember.”

“And maybe one day...when it’s time, that _someone_ from your dream will come get you,” Nile tells him quietly, her hands resting on his forearms. She smiles and tells him, “So… you know, happy kind of shitty birthday to you too.”

“You know, I think I’ve finally found something worth celebrating,” Booker says with a grin as he surges up to grab her tight, twisting their bodies until she’s under him, laughing and reaching up to take his face in her hands, pulling him down for a kiss.

**o**

Nile wakes up blissfully late to the sun pouring in through the bedroom window. She’s not surprised to see the bed empty and that Booker is already up. She takes a nice long shower and dresses before making her way into the kitchen, falling heavily into a chair at the kitchen table. 

Looking around, she frowns and says, “You cleaned.”

Booker looks back at her from where he’s put a pot of coffee on. It looks like he’s going to deny it and then rolls his eyes and nods. 

“For little old me?” Nile teases.

“For the Marie Kondo of the Mahgreb,” Booker says. “I can hear him now. _You really live like this, huh?_ ”

Nile laughs at the bad impression before remarking, “Nicky and Joe do have beautiful and immaculate homes. In Sicily I almost asked them to adopt me.”

Booker barks out a laugh, mutters something in French and goes to grab some cups and milk. He’s only just placed their coffees on the table and asked Nile if she wants to go out for a late breakfast when there’s a knocking at the door. He scowls in the direction of the door, waiting.

“Come on! We’re freezing our asses out here,” Joe shouts from outside.

Booker shakes his head, heading down the short hallway as Nile stands back and waits, watching Booker open the door, smiling and just waiting for Joe to say something. Which he does. “You know Bruges hasn’t changed a bit since we were last here.” 

“The American tourists are new,” Nicky comments.

“Great,” Joe says, elongating the word, Nicky giving Joe a reprimanding look. Joe shrugs with an innocent look on his face to Nicky’s evident amusement. 

Nicky walks in first, extending his arms to embrace Booker while Joe drops their rucksacks in the hall and closes the door. Booker and Nicky exchange pleasantries in Italian because that’s just what seems to happen around Nicky. Nicky is saying it’s been _too long, too long_ , that Booker is a sight.

Joe moves past them both, smiling Nile. She laughs as he grabs her, squeezing her tight and rocking her. “You look taller.”

“Funny,” she says, catching sight of Nicky who is smiling at her. 

“She look taller to you?”Joe asks Nicky, pointing in Nile’s direction. 

Nicky frowns, nodding. “Definitely looks taller.”

She rolls her eyes at them before giving Nicky a big hug. She can see Booker hanging back watching with a smile, until Joe prods him in the arm like an overgrown teenager. Booker nods at him and Joe grabs his shoulder, pulling him forward and giving him a hug that can only be described as hearty, complete with a slap on the back. Joe says something and Booker responds with a strange little nod that leaves his eyes bright.

Nicky has already moved deeper into the kitchen, opening the fridge because, well Nicky, and Joe is standing there with an arm around Booker, telling Nile, “He looks shorter.”

Booker gives Joe a light whack across the stomach, getting a surprised ‘oof!’ out of him, before he hurries over to Nicky with, “No no no.”

They start squabbling over who’s making breakfast, Joe slowly stepping towards Nile. “So. Eighteen months of radio silence. What happened?”

Nile lifts a shoulder in a muted shrug. “I just needed to figure some stuff out.”

Joe nods, wearing an understanding look. “Did you?”

Nile thinks about the time she’s spent looking at the world in and outside of herself. She tells Joe, “It’s a nice world we have. Most of the time.”

Joe smiles at her. “A nice world with some good people.”

Nile smiles back and lets Joe give her another hug. They sit down and she starts recounting disappearing from Joe and Nicky’s place, while Booker and Nicky are deep in conversation about something Nicky has spotted on his way to the apartment. Before long, they’re all sitting and eating at the table, their voices overlapping each other too many times. 

It’s late afternoon when they hear the second knock at the door, and they all fall silent at the same time. It’s Nicky who gets up out of his seat to head down the hall, Booker just watching him. Joe and Nile share a glance. It’s going to be awkward. Not the run of the mill _families can be awkward_ awkward, but _immortal families where one person almost got everyone killed and then spent some time being drowned over and over by another person_ awkward. It doesn’t seem to have gotten any less awkward over the years either.

Nile hears Copley’s voice first in a calm and warm greeting. He comes in and offers friendly handshakes all round, giving Nile a kiss on the cheek. She’s nodding as he speaks but her eyes are on Andy and Nicky wrapped in a tight embrace. Andy’s hair has grown out, touching her shoulders, but still not greying. Maybe mortality for an immortal is a whole different ball game too, who knows.

Andy sees Nile and their gazes lock. Her smile is warm, all the way to her eyes as she looks at Nile. Nile nods at her as Joe makes a beeline for Andy and they both hug too. Behind them Quynh pulls out of Nicky’s embrace to smile at him. Joe goes to her next, hugging her and saying something to make her laugh. The three of them stand there chatting away in their own bubble where all is forgiven.

It has to be forgiven though, Nile remembers. If Quynh can’t be forgiven, neither can Booker. If the past is all that matters then even Andy can’t be forgiven for her part in it. They all need each other, they are all they have. So when Andy strides over to Nile and envelopes her in a hug, Nile can’t help but hug back and hold on tight. 

“Hey,” Andy murmurs in Nile’s ear. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hasn’t been that long,” Nile says, catching Quynh glancing in their direction. 

“Long enough,” Andy says as she pulls back, her hand going to gently cup the back of Nile’s head for a second. “How are you?”

Nile nods. “I’m good. You?”

Andy smiles, nodding. “I’m good.”

Booker has sidled up to them, shoulders all tense as he gives Andy a nod. She turns to him and grins, pulling him into a tight _tight_ hug. Nile feels that warmth in the pit of her stomach that she feels whenever they’re all together. 

Quynh walks into the kitchen, slow and ghost-like, as if she almost floated there. She nods to Nile. “Nile.”

Nile nods back and says, “Noriko.”

Andy and Booker pull apart and Booker almost as if someone is forcing him to look at Quynh. It’s better than the first time they all got back in the same room, because he does look at her and gives her a silent nod. 

“Hello Booker,” Quynh says, both of them staring at each other like they might just kick off any second.

Booker looks at everyone, asking, “Coffee?”

Just like that the tension breaks, Andy’s shoulder’s relaxing, Joe and Nicky sharing a look and Copley looking vaguely more comfortable about being here. Everyone crams around the table, Booker bringing over a pot of coffee, which Nicky immediately starts pouring into cups for everyone. 

The peace lasts for an hour. 

It all erupts when Quynh suggests Booker might not be the best candidate for lookout on their next job. Booker wants to know what the hell that means. Quynh tells him that she’s seen exactly how alert he is. Nile doesn’t know if she’s talking about getting one over Booker or if she’s just being Quynh, but Andy looks embarrassed.

Booker is up on his feet and Joe is only sitting because Nicky has a hand on his arm. Booker looks at Andy and Nile just knows he’s got something scathing on the tip of his tongue for his oldest and most violent friend. Something sways him though and he stomps off, angrily grabbing his jacket and leaving the apartment. 

Andy glares at Quynh who looks put out by Booker being offended. “That was shitty.”

Quynh nods, tearful. “I didn’t mean it the way he took it. But of course you’re on his side.”

Then off she stomps too, finding the nearest locked doors which happen to be to the bedroom. Andy sighs, slumping in her chair. 

“You should probably go after her,” Nile says.

“She’ll be fine,” Andy says.

“Oh I know she’ll be fine,” Nile says. “I just don’t want her setting fire to Booker’s place. It’s pretty flammable.”

Andy blinks at Nile, looking just a tiny bit amused, before she gets up heavily and heads to the bedroom.

Joe gets up too. “I’ll go talk to Book.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nicky says. 

Nile nods, letting them go after Booker, do their version of being immortal bros or whatever. That leaves her sitting opposite Copley who seems as reserved and calm as ever, keeping all his horrified thoughts to himself.

“So. James,” Nile says, “I heard you’re seeing someone. Is she nice?”

Copley frowns at her and says, “You know, this is very similar to Christmas at my parents’ last year.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes. I just hope the day doesn’t end with someone getting drunk and telling everyone to eat shit,” Copley says, looking genuinely worried. 

“I won’t lie,” Nile says. “There’s a chance that will happen.”

**o**

It doesn’t happen. 

Andy coaxes Quynh back out and both Joe and Nicky bring Booker back in, all three of them smelling of cigarette smoke - bros before lungs. They all resume talking about the job, Copley setting out the objectives, identifying the main players. Andy drives the questions, Quynh remaining well behaved at her side, Booker sitting between Joe and Nicky with a taut expression.

It’s all so ridiculous. Nile thinks she might either start laughing or run screaming out of the apartment and have another two year long breakdown across the globe. 

“Nile?” She realises everyone’s looking at her, Copley’s asked a question. She looks at him and he says, “What do you think?”

Nile looks at Andy who seems unfazed. She made it clear a decade ago that humanity is shit. If she’s at this table now, it’s because Nile wants her there and for some dumb reason, Andy gives a shit about what Nile thinks. It’s Quynh who looks just a little put out at Andy’s side. 

Her mouth lifting in the smallest smile, Andy asks Nile, “Well? Boss.”

Nile snorts at that before looking at everyone and nodding. “Yeah. I think we’re good to go.”

**o**

When evening comes around, Quynh and Andy take off for a walk, planning to meet them all at dinner. Nile watches out of the kitchen window as they walk down the street together, Quynh taking Andy’s hand and Andy turning to look at her for the longest time. They’re so old. What is it even to be that old, to see the world rebuild itself over and over, people and places turning to dust. Nile can’t imagine it, see herself at thousands of years old, walking the Earth like some fallen god. 

She turns away from the window to see Copley and Joe sharing a joke, Nicky and Booker locked in some intense conversation which will no doubt turn out to be about something totally mundane like cilantro. How do they keep it so normal? How do Joe and Nicky water their plants, tend to their flowers and grow herbs for their food, knowing everything dies but them? 

She wants to scream. Sometimes when she sees them all, she just wants to scream. 

She closes her eyes and stands across a street watching people walking out of a church until she sees them, her family. She looks at their warm smiles, remembers the embrace of her mother, the laughter of her brother, digs it all up from somewhere skin deep. She sees her mom walk down the steps of the church, turn to leave and then turn back and look right at Nile. Maybe she wasn’t as well hidden as she had thought. Maybe she had been seen. How good it had been to be seen. 

Nile opens her eyes to see Booker leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her closely, Nicky having drifted towards Joe and Copley in the living room. She looks right back at him and for a moment the apartment, the chatter, everyone but her and Booker fade away into some unknown space, leaving just them two, holding each other with a gaze. 

“I told the others about the place around the corner,” Booker says. “They’re eager to cast their judgement.”

“Doesn’t sound like them at all.” Nile smiles and tells him, “I’ll get my jacket.”

Nile turns towards the bedroom, but as she moves to go Booker pulls her out into the small hallway and out of sight of the others. She grins at him, taking a step back to lean against the wall, Booker moving with her, his hand pressed against the wall. They share a kiss, Nile reaching out to press her hands against Booker’s chest.

“Booker!” Joe calls out, forcing them both apart. 

Nile grins at Booker as he pushes away from the wall and goes to join the others. She resumes her course to the bedroom. There, she pulls on her jacket, watching herself in the mirror. In ten years every mirror she’s looked in has only registered the changes around her. She always looks the same and will look the same for anywhere up to seven thousand years…

It’s enough to drive Nile crazy. Sometimes it does. 

They spend the evening in Booker’s choice of quaint restaurant, eating and drinking, enjoying those small pleasures that Nile figures will never grow old. Andy has Quynh and a brighter smile. Joe and Nicky have each other to the degree that Nile thinks she can see the invisible golden bonds that keep them tied together. Copley, he has his mortality and all that comes with it and he has immortal friends. Booker...he has a light in his eyes which has brightened over the years. 

Nile, she has purpose. She has this family which she did not choose.

She has Booker.

The rest? The rest can fall into place over time, it’s not like she doesn’t have enough of it.


End file.
